Bat(tle) Mode
by Jessica L. Pearson
Summary: harvey and donna at a baseball game [au: casual conversations at night / swimming in the ocean / sunlight comes in the shades]


_Same universe as other random, domestic oneshots. Please review. _

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"Lets put a pin into this for a second," Harvey says to Mike beside him, "my kid's up to bat."

"You're the one who said," Mike trails off.

"Go stand over there," Harvey counters, pointing away from him. Mike's mouth hangs open for a few seconds before he sulks off. He catches Donna's look from the seat next to him out of his peripheral vision and he recoils. He returns her glare. "What?"

"That was harsh," she counters, "you told him to come."

"Jonathan's at bat and Mike can't keep himself from talking."

She feels his hand slide over her knee like he's trying to distract her from the conversation (which she has noted over the years is the way that he does so successfully) but it's mostly because he sees her as the only person who can go toe-to-toe with him. He plays dirty but she doesn't play fair either and that's something that has propelled them forward over the years. She makes it a point not to back down and she tosses him a glare.

"You don't have a fighting chance," she warns him.

His eyebrows furrow, "I'm not doing anything."

"You're always doing something," she replies in disbelief, "I know exactly how you work."

"Do you now?"

She smirks, "these poor people have to be sick of us by now."

"Because you nag," he replies with the slightest hint of a grin. She quirks her eyebrow and gives him a look. A laugh catches in his throat as her fingers flex against his wrist. "But you do have to put up with me on a constant basis."

"Nice save," she says, "I do deserve the right to nag."

"Keep telling yourself that," he counters.

"Oh, I do, trust me. Your kids tell me that every day," she retorts. He gives her a look before he shoots to his feet at the umpire's call of a strike. His voice is louder than everyone else's, yelling _come on, that was a ball_ and she can't help but laugh. She tugs on his pant leg and without looking at her he heeds her warning, sitting back down. "Don't get asked to leave again. I'd rather not hear you bitching about that again."

"I'm so lucky you married me," he quips sarcastically.

She sits a little straighter, "we all know that's true."

"I might get a little peace from time to time had I not."

"Imagine what your life would be like without me," she says with a laugh.

His face twists in disgust, "I'd rather not think about that. Those few weeks were rough."

"If you hadn't learned what you were missing you may not be married to me right now," she offers.

He laughs carefully, "I think we both know it would have happened eventually."

"You'd probably have some little blonde thing you'd escort to the firm's parties."

"Please, everyone knows I'm into redheads," he insists.

"Nice try. It wasn't the truth but the sentiment isn't lost on me," she says.

Her long, manicured nails press into the small of his back and she pushes them along the expanse of his skin. He attempts to contain a shiver that he knows is coming because she's just trying to get a rise out of him. Her hand wraps around the crease of his elbow and he leans forward a bit without thinking about it. It's the moments that she gets him to relax, the ones where she is the cause, that he wonders what made him decide to wait so long before taking that step forward with her.

He smirks as he glances at her, "maybe I just couldn't look at a redhead without seeing you."

She looks at him pointedly, "you've already married me. You no longer need to play me."

"If you don't stop talking you're going to miss your son at bat," Harvey attempts to change the subject.

"I can multitask."

"I sent Mike over there because he couldn't stop talking," he points out, "do you want to join him?"

"You can," she counters back. Her fingers stop their movement on his back and he leans further into her palm, making him reconsider his words. She ignores his hint, deciding that it would be better to make him work for it. "Do you want to take that back?"

"Hm, maybe," he says with a shrug.

Rachel makes her way back to Mike twisting his fingers in the fence and Donna takes quick note from the distance that the two little girls are grasping either of her hands until they see him. Donna feels relieved that their daughter is currently in good hands and squeezes his arm a little tighter. He shifts his gaze towards her for just a moment before he hears the crack of a bat and the ball fly across the field.

"I thought moms were supposed to be the loudest in the crowd," Harvey teases.

Donna shrugs, "this is your thing. I'm just here to look pretty."

"You know all of my conversations are billable," he reminds her.

She laughs quietly, her breath hot on his ear, "I'll make sure and send your son his bill."

They've always been like this - quiet and intimate, like no one else in the world mattered, and that's what was always so misleading about them before they ever got together. Everyone thought they were a team because they were, and everyone thought they were together because they were never happier than when they were together. They touch now when before they tried so hard not to touch each other; it's just second nature.

"Not him," Harvey half corrects, "I'm charging you."

"There's a flaw in your plan. I'm the one who sends out all of your billables." His eyes narrow at her as Jonathan teeters on his heels somewhere near second base. He relaxes heavily, dropping his chin into his palm as he presses his elbow into his knee. Her thumbs brushes over a sensitive bit of exposed flesh in his arm and he momentarily wonders when they became these people. "I think you forgot about that little detail."

"People remember what they want to remember."

She rolls her eyes and pushes her hand up his spine, "you should probably call your sidekick back over here to finish what you started."

"Now _him_ you can bill," Harvey says with a light shake of his head, "I think he's fine over there."


End file.
